


The Wonder That's Keeping The Stars Apart

by Caro_the_Poet



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Like it's literally all I know how to write, it wasn't even on purpose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28489842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caro_the_Poet/pseuds/Caro_the_Poet
Summary: Only Amanda is left, holding her empty glass and looking like she’s afraid to speak, like it might break a spell--like the magic of SG-1 is fading too quickly and she’s powerless to stop it.
Relationships: Richard Dean Anderson/Amanda Tapping
Comments: 24
Kudos: 25





	1. anywhere I go you go, my dear

**Author's Note:**

> The poem referenced in this work is I Carry Your Heart by e.e. cummings. One of my favorites.

_Moebius_

Rick’s seen this day on the horizon for years now. Ever since Wylie was born, really, and that was back almost at the beginning. He always knew that one day the filming schedule and the time away from his daughter would be too much, that he’d have to bow out and leave Stargate SG-1 in other--and probably less capable--hands. 

He just didn’t expect it to hurt this much. These people have become family to him over the last eight years, especially Michael and Chris and Amanda. 

_Amanda_. Actually, most of the time he tries to ignore exactly how much Amanda means to him. He remembers filming season 4, and what a trainwreck of emotions _that_ was. _Window of Opportunity_ was a blast, he won’t deny that for a second; but _Divide and Conquer_ was its own can of worms. God, that zat’arc detector scene…

Let’s just say, when he had to look Amanda straight in the eyes and say, _I care about her a lot more than I’m supposed to,_ he didn’t even have to act. It was just a simple fact. And it felt a little too close to baring his soul in front of the entire cast and crew for comfort. Amanda was a good sport, just like always. The painful part was that he was pretty sure she _was_ acting, at least more than he was. 

He blinks to dissolve the memories and heads to the set. It’s the final day of filming, and he needs to get his head in the game. 

The last scene they film is the one where O’Neill and Carter kiss in the puddle jumper, and he doesn’t even try to pretend he hasn’t been looking forward to it all week. When Amanda walks on the set, he fixes her with a diabolical grin. “It’s the big day,” he says. “I was looking over the script and, y’know, I’m thinking we’re gonna have to rehearse this eleven or twelve times.” 

Amanda pretends to be serious, but her eyes are twinkling with mirth. “Oh, absolutely,” she agrees without hesitation. “And I bet it will still take eight or nine takes, just to get it perfect.” 

He rolls his eyes, as if her unabashed willingness to kiss him upwards of twenty times in one day is an annoyance. "Ah, yes. You and your perfectionism.”

She squints at him and purses her lips. "Oh, as if you didn't screw up multiple takes on purpose the last time we had to do this."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I am a _consummate_ professional."

“If you two are _quite_ finished,” interrupts the director, already sounding exhausted, “how about we start rehearsing?” 

Amanda just smirks and climbs into the puddle jumper.

It ends up being two rehearsals and three takes, which adds up to fifteen kisses (not that he’s keeping track), and they call it a day. The last day. 

There’s a party afterward, complete with appetizers and cake and an open bar. He has a lump in his throat the whole time, in spite of cracking every joke he can think of any time anyone talks to him. Finally he retreats to a quiet corner of the room, and Michael and Chris and Amanda join him there, like he knew they would. They sip their drinks and reminisce in hushed tones, not wanting to draw attention to themselves--wanting to have this moment with just them, just SG-1. 

He’s leaning against the wall and Amanda’s next to him, and she wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his shoulder. She hasn’t said much since they finished filming, and her smile has a pasted-on quality to it. She hasn’t talked about it, but he has the sense that she’s taking his departure harder than the others. 

And that, he understands. He drapes his arm over her and kisses the top of her head. He won’t miss anything more than he’ll miss _this_. 

It gets late and the people filling the room say goodbye and drift away. It’s only the four of them left. For old time’s sake, they go to Rick’s trailer for one more drink. 

“I suppose now is the time I should say something profound,” he says, quoting Jack O’Neill. He pauses for dramatic effect.. “...Nothing comes to mind.” 

All three of them groan and roll their eyes, even Amanda, which he finds surprising. She really isn’t herself tonight.

Chris raises his glass. “To SG-1.” 

“To SG-1,” they repeat, all of them raising their glasses and downing the contents. Amanda and Chris both have tears in their eyes, and for once Rick can’t think of any irreverent remark to lighten the mood. It’s the end of an era, and perhaps that deserves some reverence. 

Michael leaves first; then Chris. Only Amanda is left, holding her empty glass and looking like she’s afraid to speak, like it might break a spell--like the magic of SG-1 is fading too quickly and she’s powerless to stop it. 

She looks at the floor, biting her bottom lip and blinking hard. “I have to go, too,” she says. She sucks in a breath. “I can’t believe this is it.” 

He knows he has to let her go, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to do it. Everything he’s ever wanted to say comes rushing to his lips at once.

“Amanda,” he begins, and then he hesitates, because this is the closest he’s ever come to saying it out loud. It won’t change anything, he knows; as much as she cares for him or may even be attracted to him, she’s not in love with him--not that way. Not the way he is with her. And maybe he’s a selfish bastard, but he _can’t_ leave this unsaid. “You...you know how I feel about you, right?” 

She looks up at him, her blue eyes soft and sad and knowing. If she’d been anyone else, she would have pushed him away, or apologized, or maybe even been angry; but she’s Amanda and she’s always understood him better than anyone. So she only smiles a little and says, “Yeah. I know.”

And somehow, that's enough. 

She tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to his lips, and wraps her arms around him. Her voice trembles when she whispers, “I’m going to miss you _so much.”_

He clings to her for just a moment, savoring her warmth and the citrus scent of her hair, the taste of her kiss lingering on his lips. Then she steps back, takes his hands in hers and squeezes them affectionately. “You’ll stay in touch, won’t you? And you’ll come back and visit us?” 

Her eyes are teary and sparkling and her smile is brighter than the sun and the stars, and he thinks he’d give her his whole soul if she asked for it. 

_As if he hadn’t already._

"Of course I will." He squeezes her hands back and then releases them. "Undomesticated equines, and all that." He waves a hand dismissively and this time she laughs. He's pretty sure he's not even close to as funny as she thinks he is, but coaxing that contagious laugh out of her has been the high point of all the years on Stargate. 

When she leaves, he stands in place for a long time, looking after her.


	2. beautiful you are my world, my true

_200_

_Stargate SG-1_ is preparing to film its 200th episode, and the showrunners have been harassing him for weeks about coming on for a guest appearance. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to, exactly, it’s just that he’s comfortable now, settled into retirement. And physically speaking, he’s seen better days. Between his bad back and his bad knee and every other joint threatening to go bad at any moment, he doesn’t feel much up to putting the Jack O’Neill skin back on and hurtling through the stargate. 

Not to mention that a little distance between himself and Amanda has been a good thing. For him, at least. They chat on the phone and send each other emails and Christmas cards with pictures of their daughters in poofy holiday dresses and that’s that. It’s been a lot less emotionally charged and for that he’s been grateful. 

He sits down at his computer and finds a new email from Amanda waiting for him. He studiously ignores that pesky flutter of excitement that always flares up when he sees her name, and clicks open the email.

 _Esteemed Colleague_ (He snorts at this. She’s such a dork sometimes.):  
_I am hereby commissioned by The Powers That Be to convince you to participate in the 200th episode of Stargate SG-1. I don’t know why they think I’d have any special influence, but here we are. I’ve been told they’re throwing around the idea of a Jack/Sam wedding---you don’t want to disappoint the fans, do you??_  
_-Amanda_  
_P.S. Seriously, Rick, get your ass up here or I’ll never speak to you again._

Well, he can’t argue with that, can he? 

*  
When he arrives on set, he’s not prepared for the way Amanda’s face lights up when she sees him, or the way his feet involuntarily carry him in her direction, as if she has her own gravitational pull. She drops the script she’s holding and bounds out of her chair, all joy and sparkle and smiles, and throws her arms around him. “I’m _so_ happy to see you!” she exclaims, kissing his cheek. “How have you been?”

He has to remind himself to breathe. 

He returns her kiss and steps back, grinning at her. “Oh, you know. I’m...me. You look radiant.” 

She laughs. “I look _tired.”_

But she doesn’t. She’s practically glowing and she looks happier than he’s ever seen her. “Olivia still keeping you up at all hours?”

“Something like that.” She rolls her eyes. 

“Is she around here somewhere?” 

“Oh, yes!” She beams at him. “You can meet her after the table read.” 

Episode 200 is pure hilarity, all inside jokes and absurd scenarios, including a whole scene with marionette puppets that has them all in stitches just reading about it. But when they get to the wedding scene, he feels his stomach clench, just a little bit. He glances at Amanda, but she’s laughing at something Ben said and doesn’t notice his discomfort. 

He’s just going to have to suck it up. 

It’s near the end of the day when he finds himself at Amanda’s trailer. She opens the door and welcomes him in, with 18-month-old Olivia propped up on her hip. 

He steps inside and grins at Olivia. “Hey, baby girl. You look just like your mommy. And your mommy’s the prettiest lady in the world, so...lucky you.” 

Amanda rolls her eyes and blushes, which is exactly the reaction he was going for. “Here, baby, go see Uncle Rick.” She passes Olivia to him and he takes her without hesitation. He smiles down at her chubby face and she stares at him with wide, cornflower-blue eyes, just like Amanda’s. “Come sit,” Amanda says from the spot she’s taken on the little couch. 

He sits, and Olivia squirms out of his arms and climbs up on the couch behind Amanda, peering at him over her mother’s shoulder. “She’s shy,” Amanda says.

“Well, she didn’t scream when I held her, so that’s something.” He winks in Olivia’s direction and she smiles, just a little. “So.” 

“So?” 

“How’s it _really_ going here? I’ve never asked you.” 

Amanda’s face freezes and she’s quiet for a long moment, as if she’s trying to decide how honest to be. “It’s not the same without you,” she says finally. “I don’t mean it’s bad, because it isn’t. I love Ben and Claudia and Beau, and it’s a good story we’re telling, but…” she pauses. “You were the heart and soul of _Stargate_ , Rick, and it just isn’t the same.” 

It takes him a minute to catch his breath, to figure out how to even respond to that. “It wasn’t just me,” he says. “It was all of us. You and me and Michael and Chris. And Don.” Don Davis leaving the show had been the first big change. It wasn’t the same without General Hammond. 

Amanda sighs. “I guess I just miss you. You always made us laugh.” 

“No one as entertaining as me on set, huh?” He lets his eyes twinkle at her. 

“I don’t think there is anyone else in the world that could match your particular brand of humor, Rick.” 

This whole conversation is making him feel much more smug than it should. “So what you’re saying is, the whole thing went to hell as soon as I left?” 

She holds up a finger. “Hey,” she says sternly, “don’t put words in my mouth.” 

He shrugs and tries to look innocent. “I can’t say I’m a fan of the new opening title sequence. It looks cheap.” 

_“Oh,”_ exclaims Amanda, her blue eyes sparking the way they do when she’s riled, “don’t _even_ get me started.” 

Being Jack O’Neill again feels like coming home in a way he hadn’t expected. It’s almost as if he never left. They rehearse their scenes, and he follows the script if he feels like it. He gets into a farting contest with Chris. He refuses to be serious about _anything_. And most of all, he makes Amanda laugh at every opportunity.

She’s never far away from him for the whole week he’s there. They find each other in hair and makeup at the same time every day. They eat their lunches together at the same table. When he sits down on the stargate ramp to discuss some changes to the scene with the director, she sits next to him, leaning into his shoulder as she adds her opinion. It’s as if she’s savoring every moment of his presence, and once again he can feel the lines between them and their characters blurring and disappearing. 

It’s a full barrel of laughs until the day they film the wedding scene. He feels oddly nervous about it, which is strange considering they’ve done this before, back in Season 3. Mostly he’s shoved the nervousness to the back of his mind and tried to ignore it, but when he finds himself walking to the set in a tux (wearing a _corsage_ , no less!) it hits him between the eyes how much he does _not_ want to be here, pretending to marry Amanda. In his anxiety-induced daze, he nearly runs smack into her. 

He involuntarily gasps when he sees her. She’s wearing a long, blonde wig like the one she wore in _Point of View_ all those years ago, and her dress is strapless and shiny white. Her veil surrounds her like a soft, pale mist, and he feels absolutely frozen in place by how beautiful she is. 

The spell breaks a split second later when she also gasps and dodges behind a piece of extra scenery, nearly tripping over her dress in the process. 

“Amanda? What the _hell?”_ he exclaims through a shaky laugh. 

“You’re not supposed to see me before the wedding!” she calls from behind the flimsy plywood. “It’s bad luck!” 

He’s not sure he heard correctly. “Not supposed to...see you? Amanda, you realize we aren’t actually getting married, right?” The words make a bad taste in his mouth, but clearly they need to be said. 

“I know, but…” she huffs a sigh and peeks out from behind her shelter. “I don’t want there to be bad luck for...Jack and Sam?” she ends it like a question, as if she’s only just realizing how ridiculous she sounds. 

“Amanda, that’s absurd.” 

“Richard Dean Anderson, you of _all_ people do not get to call me absurd!” 

She has a point. Plus, he’s never been able to argue with her when she uses his full name like that. After eight years of working with her, he knows better. 

“Fine. I’ll go first, and you follow me.” 

“Promise you won’t look at me till we’re on set?” 

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Promise. My _god_ , you’re such a diva.” 

“I learned from the best.” 

He keeps his promise with great difficulty. And if that one tiny glimpse of her was enough to take his breath away, the sight of her walking on to the set in her full wedding gown glory just about gives him a coronary. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she says to him with a cheeky grin. 

He just stares. “Do you, like...age at _all?”_ he says finally. “We did this seven years ago, and you look exactly the same. You haven’t aged a day. I don’t understand it.” 

Her eyes sparkle. “Would you believe me if I said alien technology?” 

“No.” 

She shrugs. “Well, I _am_ just a tad younger than you. Maybe it hasn’t caught up to me yet.” 

“Way to hit below the belt, Tapping,” he replies with a groan. 

He still feels stiff and anxious, and they have to rehearse multiple times before the awkwardness dissipates enough that it doesn’t bleed into the scene. It’s frustrating. He really thought he was more professional than this. 

Michael suggests that maybe Jack should marry Daniel instead, and it’s acting out that scenario that finally gets everyone laughing and more relaxed. 

They film the scene and take the pictures, posed wedding photos that feel just a little too real with her hand in his and his other arm around her waist. He hates them when he sees them later. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but there, and that is certainly not how Jack O’Neill would look at his wedding to Samantha Carter. 

At least he didn’t have to kiss her this time. He doesn’t think he could’ve come back from that. 

Amanda shoots him a questioning look before she heads to her trailer. _Was that all right? Are you all right?_ They’ve always been able to have those wordless conversations, just like Carter and O’Neill. 

He doesn’t know if he’s all right or not. But he nods in her direction anyway. 

It's not her problem to fix. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to starrybouquet for help finding the behind-the-scenes anecdotes that contributed to this chapter! The wedding scene is based on a story the actors shared at a convention, several years ago.


	3. whatever a sun will always sing is you

_Continuum_

He declines to make an appearance on _The Ark of Truth._ It’s not Jack O’Neill’s story anyway, it merely resolves seasons 9 and 10; and in spite of his decision to return for _200_ and _The Shroud,_ he still objects to seasons 9 and 10 on principle--however petty that may be. And it’s not that he didn’t have fun, because he did, but his time with Amanda had been just enough of a hit to his equilibrium to want to avoid repeating it any time soon. 

_However._

When the studio contacts him about _Continuum_ and dangles a trip to the Arctic Circle in front of him, well, there’s no way he’s going to say no to that. And if Amanda’s there, well, then she’s _there,_ and he’ll be an adult about it. 

_As if he’s ever been an adult about anything in his entire life._

He packs his bags and heads to the Arctic Circle. 

*

It’s incredible. 

It’s seventy degrees below zero and there is nothing but blinding white ice and snow as far as the eye can see, and he’s wearing so many layers he can barely walk, and he could be eaten by a polar bear any second. But he’s having the time of his _life._

And the only thing brighter than the sun on the frozen terrain is Amanda’s smile when she steps out of the plane at their campsite. It immediately disappears behind her neckwarmer, but her eyes still sparkle with unbridled delight at the frigid beauty all around them. 

At the campsite, the whole crew is given thorough instructions on how to survive as long as possible if stranded on the ice. “You will each be assigned a buddy,” says the man in charge. “When we are out on the ice, you stay with your buddy at all times. No exceptions. If you and your buddy get lost, the first thing you do is strip down and both of you get into the sleeping bag you’ll have with you. This will help you conserve body heat until you can be rescued.” 

Rick tries to bite his tongue and fails. “Well, _I_ volunteer to be Amanda’s buddy,” he says, nudging her arm and fixing her with a diabolical grin. 

Amanda glares at him, but her eyes are dancing with suppressed laughter. “Oh, no you don’t,” she says, taking an exaggerated step back. “We’ve been down this road before. You and your _sidearm_ can stay far away from me!” 

He regards her with an injured expression as the room erupts with laughter. She points to her own eyes with two fingers and then back at him, mouthing, _I’m watching you, Anderson,_ and it’s so like the early days of SG-1, before feeling feelings and caring too much, that he wishes he could freeze this moment in time and live inside it a little longer.

The man in charge starts talking again about survival techniques and the moment passes. But Amanda comes back over to stand next to him and elbows him in the ribs. “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” she says under her breath, looking straight forward as if she’s not talking to him. 

He smirks. “Oh, I _know _I am. For instance, _you_ laughed.” __

She presses her lips together and looks at the floor, fighting a smile. “Why are you _like_ this?” 

He just looks at her out of the corner of his eye and grins. “The man’s talking. Pay attention.” 

“You’re the _worst.”_

“I know.”

*

In the camp, everyone is expected to pitch in and help out with the chores. And the first night, Rick finds himself assigned to dish duty with Amanda. “Well this is a pleasant surprise,” he observes as she walks in. Like him, she’s still wearing several layers and a winter hat. Outside, the wind is howling and the temperature is nearly eighty below. 

She grins at him and grabs a dirty plate and a scrub brush and begins scrubbing. “Isn’t it?” 

“What, you got assigned here randomly?” 

She passes him the newly cleaned plate. “No, I asked.” 

He takes the plate and begins drying it. “Wow, I’m flattered.” 

She picks up another plate and he thinks he hears her sigh. “We hardly see each other anymore, and I missed you.” 

He waits, because it seems like there is more she isn’t saying. She looks at him, and down at the ground, and back at him again. “And when you came to film for _The Shroud,_ it didn’t seem like you really wanted to be there; and I was worried it was my fault.” 

He doesn’t know what to say. They don’t talk about this, and honestly he’s not sure that she’s talking about what he thinks she’s talking about. But she looks uncomfortable enough that he thinks he’s pretty safe in assuming her meaning. “Look,” he says with a sigh, “would you believe me if I said it’s not you, it’s me?” 

“Jack O’Neill hates clichés,” she says with a mirthless little chuckle. 

“Well, I’m not Jack O’Neill,” he retorts, more sharply than he means. 

She drops the plate she’s washing and folds her arms across her chest, her eyes tired and exasperated. “And I’m not Samantha Carter, which is why I can never figure out how somehow we ended up exactly like them.” 

She cocks her head and stares unflinchingly into his eyes, and he stares back. It feels like each of them is silently daring the other to speak first. 

But when he doesn’t speak--because _damnit,_ what was he going to say to that, anyway?--a wave of disappointment washes over her face and she turns back to the washbasin. “I just don’t want it to be like this anymore,” she says finally. 

He sighs, supremely exhausted. He feels like he should apologize, but he’s not sure for what. All he can think of right now, when he looks at her, is eleven years ago on an artificial glacier. _You used to be MacGyver, MacGadget, MacGimmick; now you’re MacUseless! Dear God, stuck on a glacier with MacGyver!_

It had been “like this” ever since then, because that was the exact moment he had fallen for her. And he had never meant for it to be a _thing;_ God knows he’s had enough co-stars crushing on him to know better than to make it into one. But _this_ \--this has always felt different, somehow. 

He takes a deep breath. “Okay. First of all, I know how I feel; you know how you feel; and both of us know nothing is going to change, even if we wanted it to. So, if we’re really comparing ourselves to fictional characters here, maybe we do what they did and leave it in another room. And go on with our lives." 

She looks at him uncertainly. “Really?” She looks like she’s shocked that he decided to take her seriously. 

“Well, I’m tired of it being like this, too. Let’s go back to how it was before.” 

“Um...okay.” She picks up another dish. 

“Okay.” 

They wash and dry dishes in silence for a few minutes. “Jack and Sam were stupid to leave it in the room, though,” she says suddenly, and when he looks at her her eyes are twinkling again. 

“Yeah. They definitely were.” He sets down the last cup. “But if it makes you feel any better, I’m pretty sure they banged during that Groundhog Day episode.” 

She laughs, and he laughs, and any remaining tension between them dissolves into the wintry air. _“God,_ I hope so,” she says fervently. 

*

For the last part of the trip, they are filming on and around a U.S. Navy submarine, which is it’s own special kind of thrill. The film crew captures the footage of it rising and breaking through the ice--a spectacular sight--and then they all board the sub to capture the interior scenes. 

Rick laughs internally at the sub crew’s reaction when Amanda steps on board. They stand a little straighter, smile a little brighter, are excessively polite and accommodating, and steal sidelong looks at her as she makes her way through the narrow corridors. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a lady on board,” the captain explains, with just a note of apology in his voice. 

Amanda doesn’t seem to mind. She meets Rick’s eyes for just a moment before turning the full force of her megawatt smile on the crewmen in the room. He watches in unbridled amusement as they blush and stammer and desperately try not to look like lovesick fanboys. 

She might be enjoying this a little _too_ much. 

“You’re sure milking this for all it’s worth,” he observes in a slightly grumbling tone as they file down another corridor. 

She doesn’t even turn around. “You know, I never pegged you for the jealous type.” 

“What? I’m not--” 

She turns and grins at him, wrinkling her nose for good measure. 

He groans and rolls his eyes. “Damnit, Amanda! Why are you _like_ this?” 

She just keeps walking. 

*

Neither of them want to leave the Arctic when filming is done. It’s been magical, a little like stepping through a stargate and finding themselves on a new planet. It’s been an adventure unlike any other, and for the two of them, it’s been a much-needed reset button. For the first time in years, they say goodbye to each other without that underlying note of poorly-concealed sadness. Of course, they will be back together in a matter of days to film the rest of the movie, but that’s beside the point. Something between them has shifted, and for Rick’s part, he feels like he can breathe easier than he has in a long time. 

“See you soon, Rick.” Amanda gives him a hug and a peck on the lips, which he returns. 

“Can’t wait,” he says sincerely. “Ready to go kick some Goa’uld ass?” 

She smiles up at him, her eyes shining like the sun. “With you? _Always.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to BTS interviews, Rick offering to be Amanda's "buddy" really happened, as well as the submarine crew's reaction to having her on board.


	4. here is the deepest secret nobody knows

_Universe_

When he’s asked to make a guest appearance on the brand-new series _Stargate: Universe,_ he finds himself intrigued. It’s a new style for Stargate, darker and grittier and not really conducive to his particular brand of absurdity. As he reads through the scripts, he reflects that this version of O’Neill is more like the one with _one_ “L,” the one with no sense of humor. 

He thinks it might be fun, though. They want him for several episodes, but it’s only short scenes here and there, so he can get everything filmed in a couple of days. And a bunch of those scenes are O’Neill and Carter together, which makes it even more appealing. 

He hasn’t seen Amanda for over a year, and he’s only heard from her a handful of times. Her career has taken off in other directions, and while he’s watched its progression with interest and no small amount of pride, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss her.

He calls the powers that be and tells them he’ll do it. 

They end up not even shooting any of their scenes together. O’Neill is at the SGC and Carter is commanding her own ship, so their communication is over screens and he’s just a little disappointed. But she’s still there on set between scenes, and they talk and laugh and goof off like they’ve always done, and at the end of the last day of filming they go out for drinks. 

He asks her how she’s been and she laughs, tucking long brown hair behind her ear, and tells him about _Sanctuary_ and how much fun she’s having as Helen Magnus. How Olivia is growing and growing, too fast, and how sometimes she wishes she could pause time for a little while and just savor all the precious moments. 

“What about you? How have you been?” she asks, and he hedges because health-wise he’s been crappy lately, and he doesn’t really want to talk about it. 

He waves a hand dismissively. “I’m keeping busy as best I can,” he says. “You know. Projects. And stuff.”

“Projects and stuff, huh?” she rolls her eyes at him and he knows she’s not buying it, but she doesn’t question him any more. She finishes her drink and looks around indecisively. “I should go,” she says finally, but with a hint of reluctance in her voice. 

“You want to…” he casts around for something else they could do. He doesn’t want to say goodbye to her yet. “Let’s go back to the set; get one last look at the old stargate. You know, for old time’s sake. Since we’re leaving in the morning, and all.” 

She smiles. “Sure. For old time’s sake.” 

When they arrive back at the set, nearly everyone is gone; just a few crew members bustling about and getting things ready for the following day. The two of them stand in the control room, surveying the scene. It brings back so many memories and he’s not sure if this was a good idea or not. 

Amanda breaks the silence first. “It’s been so good to see you again,” she says, smiling and threading her hand through his arm. “Even though it’s too short.”

“It is too short,” he agrees, smiling down at her. “We need to not go so long without talking.”

“I know.” 

She looks sad for a moment and he knows he needs to backtrack because he didn't bring her here to guilt trip her for not staying in touch. “But hey, life gets crazy, you know? Most days I can barely get my head on straight, much less pick up the phone.” 

She brightens again. “How’s Wylie?” 

“Ugh. Hell on wheels.” But he grins when he says it and Amanda knows how proud he is of his daughter. 

“You realize you _absolutely_ deserve it, right?” 

“So I’ve been told. _Many_ times, in fact.” 

They let the silence fall between them again, looking out over the gate room set that, even after all these years, still is like a second home. There is something about this that feels like an ending, like perhaps Rick as Jack O’Neill and Amanda as Samantha Carter are together for the last time. He’s tired, he’s ready to relax and just exist in the world for a while as only himself. Just rest.

And Amanda, well--her star is still on the rise. He can feel it. To her adoring fans she’s the Grand Empress of Sci-Fi; she’s the lead of her own television show; she’s beginning to make a name for herself as a director. He thinks back to that very first audition, when she was so young and green and anxious to please. But one scene with her, and he had known he’d found his Carter. She’s always had greatness within her. 

As if she can sense his thoughts, she wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head on his shoulder, and he drapes an arm over her, like they used to do in the old days. “I don’t want it to end,” she says, and her voice has just the slightest tremble to it. 

He rests his head against hers. “It’s not the end. I bet they’ll have you come back for more episodes. The fans love you.” 

“That’s not what I meant,” she replies softly. 

He doesn’t ask her what she meant. He knows. Part of him will always be Jack, and part of her will always be Sam, and maybe those are the parts of them that will always love each other like this. 

She shifts so that she's facing him and she sighs. “It’s getting late. I really do need to go.” She looks down for a moment and something like concern flickers over her face before she meets his gaze again. “Take care of yourself, okay? Promise?” 

“I’ll try,” he says with a grin. “But there’s no cure for getting old.” 

“You’re not old, Rick. You could never be old.”

Her eyes twinkle at him and for a moment he almost believes it. “Come here,” he says, and pulls her into a proper hug. They hold each other for a long moment, and then he kisses her forehead and lets her go. “Drive safe, Amanda.”

She brushes her hand over her eyes quickly, like she hopes he won't notice. Then she smiles and squeezes his arm. “Bye, Rick. Stay in touch.” 

He watches her leave and then turns back for a last look at the enormous stargate prop in the room below. The last of the crew has gone home; the set is empty and quiet, but when he closes his eyes he can see it like it used to be--filled with life and imagination and the faces of old friends: Don and Michael and Chris and Teryl and Gary and Dan...and Amanda. Amanda in the middle of it all, lighting up the whole room with her sparkle and her laughter.

He wonders if, like for Jack and Sam, there is another universe out there where things are different. Maybe they meet sooner, or under different circumstances. Maybe he’s not such a wandering soul and maybe she’s…

...but honestly, he can’t think of a single thing he’d change about her. After all these years, he’s certain of one thing: there isn’t a version of himself in any reality that doesn’t look into her eyes and see all the wonder of the stars reflected back at him.

He will always carry her heart with him.

_(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud_  
_and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows_  
_higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)_  
_and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart_

_i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline of Amanda's career may be a little off, but for the purposes of this story I wrote it that way. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, and thanks again to starrybouquet for giving me ideas and encouragement!


End file.
